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Where exactly does one look when addressing the men who had recently broken you out of prison, helped get your best friend killed, then hid you deep in the woods and wouldn't stop staring at you?
Out of nowhere, a plate was thrust into my face, piled high with more food than I had ever consumed in one sitting. When I looked up, E.Z. flashed me a blinding smile and a wink before sauntering over to the table and digging into his own plate with gusto. Somehow, it had more food than mine.
E.Z. bent over, shoveling food into his face with a passion unlike anything I’d ever seen. It was almost sensual.
Except for a side glare from Griffin, the guys pointedly ignored E.Z.’s antics, as seemed to be their routine. I found it harder to ignore. Why was a hungry man happily devouring food so attractive? I tried to convince myself I was drooling because my food smelled delicious and not because I was weirdly attracted to a goofball with terrible manners and a need to be the center of attention.
Smelling the food, my stomach groaned embarrassingly loud. When my head snapped up, only E.Z. was impolite enough to acknowledge the sound, flashing another embarrassing wink before nodding at the plate in my hands.
“Eat up. No one will be able to hear you talk over all that racket,” E.Z. said with humor dancing in his eyes.
“Jackass,” sounded from Griffin.
I told myself not to stare and ate the smoked meat. I moaned loudly. I scooped up the carrots and began to inhale my food with more gusto and enthusiasm than E.Z. had, not caring about decorum or the noises I made. I had been practically starved.
“I told you I could make you scream, but I will accept a moan,” E.Z. said around a mouth full of food. When my eyes widened and flicked to his, his mischievous grin spread. “Want more? I clearly know just what you like.”
“Um, no thanks,” I replied sheepishly, feeling my face heat.
I was so mortified that I lost my train of thought. If I was unsure where to start before, then I definitely had no clue anymore and just blurted out the first question that came to mind. I needed to block out E.Z.'s green eyes and flirty words. Did his eyes change color? Ugh. Why was I so drawn to these men?
“Are you a thief?” I directed my question at Aiden. “Did you steal all these provisions?” Either way, it didn't make me feel guilty for eating it.
“No, I bought or traded for everything. Why?” Aiden replied, obviously unsure where I was going with this.
Unlucky for him, so was I. “Then you have a kid, right?”
“No…?” Aiden drew out the word, his face the picture of confusion.
“Do you have a third nipple?”No, that rumor never made sense to me.He would have just worn a shirt. No reason to leave town. “Ignore that one,” I said, waving a horrified-looking Aiden off when he opened his mouth to answer. “You don’t seem like a serial killer, so I doubt that’s right…” I continued, trailing off in thought.
“Thanks,” Aiden said hesitantly, unsure if he should be thanking me.
“Though, you can never really tell…,” I whispered, squinting my eyes as I scrutinized Aiden closely. “Sometimes the calm, sweet ones can trick you. Maybe you’re playing the sweet smile, crooked dimple, sad eyes card to gain my trust before you kill us all.”
“Why the… No!” Aiden sputtered, glancing around for clarification, but everyone else looked equally confused.
I looked down, racking my brain, trying to remember some other rumors regarding Aiden’s departure.
My head snapped up in excitement when I remembered one.
“Did you fuck your mom?”
“WHAT?!”
He leaned forward and gaped at me, obviously shocked, so I took that as my answer and moved on.
“Are you gay?” I continued, on a roll.
Aiden’s mouth flapped like a fish.
“How the hell does fucking my mom make me gay?” he finally asked, trying to make sense of this line of questioning.
“So, youdidfuck your mom?!” I exclaimed, sitting up straighter and leaning forward, excited that I discovered his secret.
At the same time, I was more than a little sickened. I reconsidered my stance and slightly slid my chair backward, my face scrunching. Then slid backward again.
“No,” Aiden practically shouted, shaking his head, and waving his arms frantically from side to side, flagging me off. “Goddess, no. No, I did not fuck my mom. I am not gay. And I’m not a serial killer! Where are these questions coming from?” He looked entirely repulsed, flicking his eyes from mine to the rest of the group, begging anyone to make sense of this for him.
